Dead Romantic
by csimiriam23
Summary: Another night, another crime at the Las Vegas lab... two cases revolving around two complicated relationships.


**Author's Note : **CSI is not owned by me, and not my creation etc etc. Just to explain shortly, I tried to write the story in the style of a typical episode of CSI, and all writing in italics are flashbacks, like you'd see in the episode. Written post Sara (sob), but with Sofia brought back.

* * *

**Dead Romantic - An Episode of CSI**

_He was sitting in the middle of the floor, crying. He was in pain. _

_"Katy! Katy!" he called, but he doubted she'd come._

_He had eaten something. That restaurant… he must have food poisoning or something. He felt a searing pain in his stomach. He was coughing, spluttering… then his body shut down, and he fell back. _

_At the same time, not too far away, a gunshot rings out of a man's house. He's dead on the floor, and it's only a matter of minutes before the killer reach his wife. She's frightened. She wished she was with him. But they'd soon be back together..._

"This is one of the biggest houses I've ever been in," Grissom exclaimed, stepping into the room.

Followed by Catherine and Greg, he was drawn towards the 419 lying in the middle of the ironically named living room. He was a fat, balding man, no obvious wounds, but his open eyes cold, and lifeless. Brass entered, walking briskly, in his suit and with his polished badge, snazzy as always. Following him was a young red head, in her mid twenties. Greg's eyes almost fell out of his head. His hand instantly moved upwards to his head, and he struggled with trying to tidy his light coloured hair.

"Possible 420, vic's name is Roger Hunter, just hit fifty, and he was apparently in good health... found by his wife," and he nodded in the red head's direction.

"His wife?" blurts out a disappointed Greg.

Brass grins, knowing perfectly well Greg already has the hots for the young woman. She, on the other hand, looked obviously distressed.

"I'm outta here, I gotta deal with the press. This man is a big shot you know, I was at a charity do with this guy just last week, keep it quiet if you can guys."

And he was gone. Grissom and Greg moved onwards, ready to process the crime scene. Catherine stepped up to the wife of the victim.

"Ms Hunter, you don't mind if we ask you some questions?" Catherine asked.

The young woman shook her head.

"Go for it. Call me Katy."

"In that case, call me Catherine. When did you last see your husband alive Katy?"

"Yesterday... we live separate lives... and he's busy, doing god knows what. And I'm working most evenings..."

"What do you do?"

"I'm an escort."

"An escort?" Catherine asked, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing like that, Catherine," she replied sharply. "I work at a host club. I just talk, flirt a little. Nothing more."

"Does your husband know?"

"Yeah, and no he didn't like it. But I wanted to be independent."

Both turned to the door at the sound of a man walking with a crutch. Doc Robbins entered, a team of coroners and a stretcher following him. Instantly, he bent down by the corpse, swiftly considering he was a man who had lost a leg, and began to examine him.

"No obvious signs of blunt force trauma... no gunshot wounds? Strange colouration to the skin... suggests illness, or poisoning... Won't know for sure until I get him on my table... take him away guys..."

_He was laughing, celebrating. He held bubbling glass of champagne in his hand, and he felt almost as bubbly and happy as his drink as he took a large sip. _

As the body of Roger Hunter was carried away on a stretcher, covered in a white plastic body bag, Doc Robbins looked around.

"Nice place... my whole house could fit in this whole room," he said.

"I know, makes you wonder what they do with all this space... the two of them, no children," Grissom said.

"You could throw one hell of a party!" Greg said, grinning.

* * *

Meanwhile, not too far away, Nick and Warrick were carrying their kits into the first of two linked crime scenes they were to process that day. House number one belonged to their first victim, Andrea Long, the second belonged to her husband, Mark Long.

"What do you think of this Living Together Apart crap Nick?" Warrick asked his partner.

"Personally, if you can't live together, you shouldn't be together. It's not a real marriage, is it? I mean, what about the kids?"

"These guys didn't have kids..."

Detective Sofia Curtis, blonde hair tied back, had turned up behind them.

"Mrs Long has a teenage daughter, Kim, who's sixteen, from a previous marriage. But the couple have no children together."

"What do you think of this living together apart thing?" Nick asked her. "Husband and wife, living in separate houses… it just doesn't work."

She shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess it's like being back in an early stage of a relationship, when you're meeting up and going on dates... romantic... but, I don't think it would be my kinda thing."

"Didn't think so."

Their 419 was lying on her bed, David Phillips already at the scene, recording her liver temp.

"Hey SuperDave," Nick greeted the coroner.

"Hey... blunt force trauma to the head, liver temp and rigor suggest she's been dead at least 12 hours."

"Thanks, blood spatter is consistant..."

Little specks of blood covered the ceiling.

"_What are you doing? No! No!"_

_She was pushed onto the bed, and she felt cold, hard metal, hitting her hard on the head. Her killer had lost it, and had no mercy._

"Can I take her away? I've got to get to the 419 on Marlon Avenue..."

"Mind if I catch a ride SuperDave?" Warrick asked.

"Cos I'm heading right over there, visiting this one's husband. You heard of living together apart David?"

"What? People do that? Maybe I could suggest that to the wife. She's started complaining I come home smelling of dead people..."

Warrick and David left Nick on his own.

As they left, Nick noticed a bloody footprint. He _photographed_ it, and swabbed the blood. It couldn't possibly be the victim's blood, as there were no large pools of blood on the floor... unless... the murder had put his right foot up on the bed? But that still made no sense, as the foot was headed into the room, not out of it.

A little later, Warrick was followed by SuperDave and Sofia into the second crime scene. They went upstairs, and discovered their second body, also in the bedroom... but this time, sprawled on the floor, his head resting in a huge pool of his own blood.

"Wow... there's a lack of defensive wounds on both vics," Warrick commented.

"Looks like a gunshot wound," David said, already crouching by the body. "Exiting the back of the head..."

_He saw the killer in front of him, holding a gun to his forehead._

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Mark Long yelled._

_The gunshot was loud, and it echoed in the minimalist's room. _

_The killer walked towards him, stepping in the blood, checking her work. She had indeed murdered him. _

Warrick photographed the body several times, and nodded.

"Take him away David."

Warrick continued to process the scene. He noticed that someone had stepped in the blood pool, and had walked away, judging by the bloody footprint going out of the door. He also noticed a long strand of brown hair on the victim's body. It was too long to be the man's hair; it must either be the killer's or someone else's.

_The killer's small, pink Converse trainer stepping in the blood. Long, light brown hair covered her face. She leaves the room, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind her. _

Warrick noticed the wastepaper basket, and rummaged through. He smiled, shaking his head at the content, and bagged some items.

It was time to return to the lab.

* * *

Grissom was with Doc Robbins in the Morgue. Roger Hunter lay on a metal table, his insides open, his vital organs in full view.

"I think it's due to poisoning... the stomach seems inflamed... It probably took him a good few hours to die, and he was dead a few hours when we got the scene... I'd say he was poisoned last night, depending on what kind of poison was used. I've pulled out the stomach content... we've got pasta, a bit of pizza, and garlic bread... all doused in champagne. Someone was celebrating? And I've sent a sample of blood to tox."

"Thanks Al."

Grissom left, and saw Catherine and Greg having a coffee together in the break room.

"Back to work guys," Grissom told them. "I need you back at that crime scene looking for any food or drink that could contain poison."

"I'm guessing he was poisoned then?" Catherine asked.

"Have you sent all the fingerprints we found at the scene to Mandy?"

"Yes, and so far I believe they are all the victim's."

"None of the wife's?"

"They had separate living rooms. You heard of Nick and Warrick's case? About this couple that were together but lived apart? Well I think that Mr and Mrs Hunter were separate but lived together."

"Is that a possible motive?" Greg asked.

"Possibly. She's in for questioning anyway."

Katy Hunter was with Brass in the interrogation room. Her red hair hung loose over her shoulders, and she wore a black vest top under a grey tracksuit jacket, with jeans. She oozed glamour, despite her casual attire. Brass could not forget the last time he saw the couple, at the charity ball. She had a long black dress, and she looked unhappy, as an accessory on Roger Hunter's arm. Brass felt sorry for the girl, he was old enough to be her father, but he also thought she had murdered him.

"So Ms Hunter... where were you last night?"

"Roger and I had gone out for a meal. That new Italian place."

"How is your relationship with Mr Hunter?"

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, we weren't close, we got married, and then we realised it was a huge mistake. He was too stubborn to give up on us, that's what he said."

"So why get married?"

"I don't know... we got drunk... I mean it's Vegas... we were wed by Elvis before we could even realise what was going on."

"So, it was strained?"

"Yeah, but I didn't kill him. I wouldn't. He was a nice guy really."

It was Nick's turn with Doc Robbins.

"Your first vic, Mr Long, died of a gunshot to the head... and I think he died a little before Mrs Long... now, Mrs Long... an old fashioned case of blunt force trauma. As you can see from the wound, you can see she was hit a few times with the gun, you can see the criss cross pattern in the wound... possibly the gun that killed Mr Long?"

"Well, we are treating it as a double homicide," he replied. "We've got matching footprints at both houses, a Size 5 Converse trainer."

"I see, well, there is no sexual trauma on Mrs Long... and both were in good health."

"Thanks Doc, is there anything else?"

"Lack of defensive wounds… might be someone they trusted?"

Nick left the autopsy room, and noticed Warrick being humoured by Hodges, and went to join him.

"Yeah, you see," the lab rat bragged. "She was beautiful, long blonde hair, curves in aaaall the right places."

"Then what was she doing with you?" Warrick asked.

"Anyways," continued Hodges. "This whole being married but living in separate houses? It could work. It's my kind of marriage. You could have women in and out the house and the wife wouldn't know."

"Yeah, well we did find a used condom in Mark Long's wastebasket. We've sent it to Wendy at DNA, because I have a feeling it isn't Mrs Long's DNA that's on the outside of the condom," Nick told him.

"Ah, Wendy. She can tell you anything."

Hodges stopped talking, and was quiet, looking dreamily, obviously thinking about Wendy. Warrick and Nick both laughed.

"Man, you got it bad!" Nick laughed.

"See ya Hodges."

* * *

"Hey, Catherine?"

The bespectacled Mandy called the blue eyed CSI over.

"Nearly all the prints in the room matched a Roger Hunter," she said.

"The vic," Catherine nodded. "So who else is there?"

"One belongs to a Katy Hunter... she related to the vic?"

"Yeah, his wife. Where was her print?"

"According to Greg's notes... it was the one taken off a champagne bottle."

_Catherine could see her doing it. Katy Hunter was fed up of being in a loveless marriage with her husband, so, enough was enough. Katy was holding the champagne bottle in place, as she tipped white powder into the bottle. She poured a glass.. _

"_Honey, would you like a glass of champagne?"_

"Aha."

Brass sat down in the interrogation room, Katy sitting opposite him. She looked slightly dishevelled now, and obviously stressed.

"So, your prints are on a champagne bottle..."

"That isn't uncommon, in my kitchen."

"We're testing the bottle for poison."

"Poison? Why the hell would I... oh god, I'm a suspect? You think I did this!"

"Did you drink any of the champagne?"

"No... I put the bottle away, but I didn't touch a drop of it..."

"Because you knew it was poisoned? Admit it. You wanted rid of your husband, you wanted out of your marriage, so you put some poison in his champagne."

_The couple clinked their champagne glasses. His glass was filled with the bubbly liquid. Her glass, filled with orange juice. She seemed happy, even without the alcohol. _

"I wasn't drinking, because I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?"

"That's why we went out. Celebrating."

"Is it Roger's baby?"

There was a pause. She was fiddling her thumbs.

_Katy was back with him, the one night where her feelings had taken over the rules of her job. She was never meant to meet them outside of work. Brown hair, and beautiful brown eyes and strong arms… _

"No. It's not Roger's baby."

"Not Roger's baby? He was probably pissed."

"He knew... I mean, we don't even sleep in the same bed, let alone… he said he'd raise it as his own..."

"You know what, I think I know what you did..."

"Oh don't tell me, I put poison in his champagne, so I could get rid of him, and get his health insurance, and baby and I would live a happy life without him. Well no. I didn't."

"Feisty, aren't you? Trust me, we aren't done."

"I didn't kill him."

* * *

"So... Miss Hart..."

"Call me Chloe."

Sofia was slightly amazed by this young girl. She had bright pink hair, and an obviously sunny disposition. Ditzy, to say the least. She was the owner of the DNA on the outside of the condom found in Mark Long's home. Sofia battled on.

"So, Chloe, you and Mark Long... were friends?"

"We hooked up a few times, he was a good tipper."

"Did you know he had a wife?"

"What? There was no wife in that house... I went back to his a few time and... well you know... not a hint of a woman's touch... and he had a single bed. I mean, it was so uncomfortable..."

"Miss Hart, where were you last night?"

"Last night? I was with a client... I can't discuss that any further, confidentiality, y'know..."

"Because Mark Long was murdered some time last night."

"Murdered? God... Oh god... Mark was a sweet guy... who would do that to him?"

"Maybe you found out about his wife? His wife was also found dead at her house. They were still together, but living apart..."

_Sofia saw the pink haired prostitute creeping into Mark Long's home. She had a gun… "What the hell are you doing?"… and she shot him. He was dead. Now she had to kill the wife. Chloe moved on to Andrea's house, the true target, and battered her with the gun. _

"That makes no sense. Do I look like someone who knows he had a wife? And even if I knew, it's my job not to care."

Outside, in the main lab, Warrick approached Wendy, who was in charge of DNA.

"Good job with the hooker, but have you analyzed our stray hair yet?"

"It's been hectic this morning, I'll get back to you ASAP," she replied.

"By the way, look out for Hodges, he's after you," Warrick warned her, grinning.

Nick was talking to Kimberly Long, Andrea Long's teenage daughter. The young girl was in tears.

"I have no one now... I've lost my mom and my stepdad..."

"Kim, where were you last night?" Nick asked her gently.

"I was staying at my friend Sally's place. We sleepover at each other's houses every Saturday."

"Are you sure you don't want anyone present? You have the right for an advocate. You wanna call your dad?"

"I don't keep in contact with my dad. He left Mom and me when I was six."

"OK, if you're sure, but you know if you change your mind..."

"Mr... Stokes... I haven't done anything wrong."

"OK, mind me asking what you thought of your mom and stepdad living apart?"

"It was Mom's idea. She and Mark kept arguing... She didn't really want another failed marriage... and she'd read about it in some magazine, so she suggested it to Mark, and he agreed. They lived in different houses, but they'd call each other every day, and go on dates and stuff..."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm going to miss them so much."

* * *

"Arsenic was used to poison Roger Hunter," Henry, the toxicologist, told Grissom.

"Thanks Henry. He wasn't a skinny man, it must have taken it a while to go through his system."

Greg popped up behind him.

"Grissom, we went to the restaurant the Hunter's were at last night, and found out someone sent a bottle of champagne over to their table."

"More champagne? Really? Who?"

"A Mr Jeff Clarkson."

"You tracking him down?"

"Yes, he's our Mr Hunter's business partner. And guess who his only daughter is?"

"Is her name Katy?"

"Yes! Grissom, you always know!"

"We need to find this bottle! Greg, can you go and search the trash?"

"What? Why do I always get the garbage bins?"

Catherine came up to them.

"Did anyone say garbage?"

"Yeah, fancy coming with me Cath?" Greg asked.

"Nah, promised Lindsay I'd take her to the movies... Such a pity... I know," Catherine smiled, glad she wasn't the one that would have to delve into a huge dumpster.

"Great. It's time to get acquainted with a dumpster."

"Hey, heard about Greg's latest adventure?" Warrick asked Nick, coming into the break room.

"Haha, what's Grissom got him doing now?"

"He's digging in a dumpster for a champagne bottle."

"Their case sounds like a toughie."

"Yeah, dead husband. They think it's the wife, and she's pregnant with another guy's child."

"God, it's not safe to meet a girl anymore. They all sound dangerous."

"I know what you mean... last girl I met... well, I think she's disappeared."

"Oh, a girl, Nick, you didn't say a word, who is she?"

"Well... see I felt a little lonely, I went to an escort club."

"You didn't!"

"Yeah, I know. I wasn't expecting anything... but met a girl. She was... just amazing... but every time I pop in there she's not there."

"Bummer man..."

_She was in front of him now, a big smile, and long, flowing red hair. Nick had always had a thing for redheads. She was wearing a low cut, short green dress. She had a body to die for._

"_Hey… I'm… I'm Nick… I've never done this before…"_

"_Well don't worry about it, sit down, make yourself comfortable."_

_She poured him a glass of champagne – he was paying by the bottle for her company – and smiled at him again. Her smile was infectious._

"Yeah, I really liked her."

"Nick... it was her job to fancy you, forget it... move on."

"Beautiful redhead, man, she was hot... apparently her name was Belle... but these escort places put fancy name on their girls..."

"Well, if it's meant to be, you'll find her."

"Hey guys..." Sofia entered, interrupting their lunch. "Kimberly Long, wasn't at her friend's house all night... she snuck out at eleven, thinking her friend wouldn't notice."

"So someone's alibi doesn't check out."

* * *

"Well, good day Mr Clarkson... Mrs Clarkson."

They were in Brass's office. Jeff Clarkson was a man with dark hair, greying slightly, but still an obvious charmer. He had brightly bleached teeth, as did his wife. His wife, Lynda, was obviously a bottle blonde, and you could tell she was one that was addicted to Botox.

"You are aware of your son in law's passing?" Brass asked Jeff Clarkson.

"Yes, of course, Katy rang us right after she rang 911; she's been staying with us since."

"I know she's a suspect, Captain, but please, go easy on my daughter," Lynda Clarkson piped in. "She's pregnant, imagine the stress... what if she miscarries?"

"You are also aware it's not Roger's child?"

"Yes, it is unfortunate. But he said he would raise the child as his own... They were out celebrating just last night."

"And did you send them a bottle of champagne?"

"Of course I did!"

It was the wife who had answered.

"Mrs Clarkson... we were told a bottle had been sent by Mr Clarkson..."

"It was his credit card."

"I see, but you are willing to say, here and now, that the bottle was from you?"

"Why, yes. A gift. We are going to be grandparents. It's exciting news."

"Did you send a poisoned bottle of champagne Mrs Clarkson?"

"What?!" an outraged Mr Clarkson jumped to his feet. "My wife..."

_She knew her daughter had a reservation for that night. She bought an expensive bottle of champagne, and she poured the powder into the bottle. She mixed it, and placed the cork back in the neck of the bottle. She took it to the restaurant, placed a wad of money in a young waiter's hands, and told him what she wanted him to do. _

There was an awkward silence. The husband looking at his wife, questioningly. Brass was waiting for a confession. Lynda Clarkson was staring at her feet.

"I'd arranged it with the waiter," she confessed. "My daughter didn't love that man, and she deserved a whole of a lot better. I knew she wouldn't be drinking. Katy's a sensible girl; I knew she wouldn't touch a drop."

"Lynda! Why?"

"She was unhappy Jeff! My little girl!"

"Are you willing to make a formal confession Mrs Clarkson?"

"Yes. My Katy told me she'd met this guy, and this guy who got her pregnant, she said he had swept her off his feet. I wanted her to have a chance with this man, she deserves it!"

"Lynda Clarkson I'm afraid you are under arrest..."

* * *

"Now Kim," Warrick was sitting in the interrogation chair. "You told my colleague that you were at your friend's house."

"I was, I was at Sally's on a sleepover..."

"Well she told the police you snuck out. Now, where did you go?"

"I... I... I went to meet a boy."

"A boy? What was his name?"

"Erm... Tom... Tom... Tom Brown..."

She had obviously spotted the name on Warrick's vest. He smirked, shaking his head.

"You know what? I think you're lying. You found out Mark was having an affair, didn't you?"

"No...No..."

"And snuck out to meet him, at his house, and you killed him, didn't you?"

"No! I didn't!"

"DNA confirms we found one of your hair on Mark's body."

"That could have gotten there anytime... he was my stepdad!"

"We found your prints, on a gun, found in the trash outside your mother's house."

"What? No..."

"You can't get out of this one Kim. You shot your stepfather. Then you went to your mother's house. You told her what you had done. She wasn't happy..."

"She knew! She knew he was sleeping with other women," Kim cried. "She said it was an open relationship! I couldn't take it anymore! Why couldn't they just be normal?!"

"So you lost it. Beat her with the gun, several times over the head."

Kim was sobbing.

_She had gone to Mark's house. She knew where he kept his gun. She took it out of it's place, and climbed the stairs. She had seen a pink haired woman going to the house the previous week. She knew what was going on. The way he had kissed her goodbye… well, it was overfriendly. Kim's dad had treated her mother like scum, her stepfather wasn't going to do the same._

"_Kimmy!" he greeted his stepdaughter with a smile. "I didn't hear you come in…"_

_She held up the gun._

"_What do you think you're doing?"_

_She pulled the trigger._

"You killed your stepfather, didn't you? And then you killed your own mother?"

"_You did what?"_

_Her mother was meant to be pleased. Kim had told her about his sordid little affair, but her mother didn't seem to care? When her father had a one night stand, she had lost it completely. _

"_You killed Mark?"_

_Kim was angry. It wasn't a proper marriage. What happened to just being a straight forward man and wife? She was angry. She lost it. She found herself hitting, and hitting with the gun… _

"I killed them! I killed them!" Kim Long cried.

* * *

"I'm sorry about your mother Ms Hunter," Brass said. "The waiter confirmed her story."

"I don't know what came over her..." Katy said, shaking her head. "Captain Brass, you know, we've been acquainted for far too long now, you may as well call me Katy."

Gil Grissom appeared, carrying a clear plastic bag, containing a wedding ring and a wallet.

"Ms Hunter, these are your husband's personal possessions. They were on his body."

"Thank you, Mr Grissom."

"Katy, will you be alright?" Brass asked her.

"Of course, I survived being interrogated by you, didn't I?" she answered, smiling.

"Look..."

"No, I know. You were doing your job. And I'm grateful, really."

"Do you need any help tracking down the father of your child? Because we can do that you know."

_Katy could see his beautiful, brown eyes. They hadn't left her mind, despite Roger's death. _

She thought for a moment, and then smiled.

"You know, him and me, we spent the whole night talking, but I hardly know anything useful about him. It would be impossible... And most of the guys I meet lie to me... I met one he told me he was in this rock band, but it turned out he was just flipping burgers for a living... this one... he told me he was a CSI. I've spent the last week parked outside this building hoping I'd see him again."

"A CSI? Do you have a name at all?"

"Nick."

At that moment, Nick Stokes appeared, dressed in his black vest, ready to go out to another crime scene. He froze once he saw her. She turned her head, and their eyes met.

_They were together again. She was mesmerized by his brown eyes, and her green eyes had the same effect on him. It had been love at first sight._

"Nick? I think we need to talk," Katy said.


End file.
